


A Private Dance

by wolfgirl232



Series: Rose Needle, Jade Thread [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, Human/Troll Relationship, Orgasm Denial, Rose Lalonde/coffee, Vaginal Fingering, rainbowdrinker!kanaya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:11:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfgirl232/pseuds/wolfgirl232
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continued from part 1. Kanaya and Rose attend Karkat's meeting, but it seems Rose is having a difficult time paying attention...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Private Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Wow I am so sorry for the Hussie-style hiatus. I was on vacation gathering inspiration for my works... 
> 
> This piece continues from the end of part 1, with part 2 taking place whenever the reader sees fit.

Unfortunately, even in the void that is paradox space, time does pass. You and Rose slip languidly from your half-sleep, dressing each other with lingering fingers. Always the one to select outfits for Rose, you slide her into a heather-grey skirt and lavender tank top, yourself donning a simple red dress. Despite the smell of sex on Rose’s skin, you manage to stop your lips from descending farther than your matesprit’s clavicle. You will never get enough of Rose. No matter how much time or space you have together.

Hand in hand, you walk through the maze of corridors to the kitchen, where a few are already milling around, waiting for, but not wanting, the meeting to begin. Not parting, you join Dave in front of the coffee pot, where the aroma can’t help but draw Rose toward the caffeine.

You often play this game of don’t-leave-me. Just having left the intertwinement of your bodies you cannot bear to let go of each other, and your constant contact lets the glow of your act remain vibrant. You and Rose have become perfectly capable of acting as a unit. One week a few months ago (you were still learning the Earth terms for time, and were particularly fascinated by them), when Rose had a particularly bad cold, you merely spoke for her, voicing all that she could not. It worked perfectly. You never once had to ask Rose what she wanted to say.

And so when Rose reaches out for the pot of coffee and a mug, your arm slips down to loop about Rose’s waist in a comforting circle. Rose quirks up the corner of her midnight lips, a smile only for her Sylph.

It isn’t long before Karkat appearifies and stomps over to the head of the table, calling for everyone to join him. With a collective sigh, the population of the room complies, drifting over toward their respective seats. You wait for Rose to finish pouring herself the poor excuse for coffee, and then lead her over to the empty chair between Nepeta and Terezi. Ignoring the stares from most members of the table, you pull Rose down into your lap, settling the girl on your thighs. Karkat glares daggers at you, clearly upset at having his seating arrangement manipulated. You return his gaze, your eyes hard. The side of your mouth twitches infinitesimally in the beginnings of a snarl, and Karkat looks away. You smirk, pressing your lips gently to Rose’s brainstem. Anatomy you had learnt easily.

When all are settled, Karkat begins his weekly diatribe—Sollux was neglecting his cleaning duties, someone left the tap on in the east bathroom, don’t walk the corridors alone at night, and if there is honking, run. They listened to the same thing every week. Karkat was under the impression these “house meetings” were vital to their cohesion, and so they amused him by attending. But what Karkat fails to notice is Dave and Terezi pulling faces at each other across the table. Equius, with a hand on his bicep, flexes and relaxes, studying the movement of his tendons. John swirls a bit of dust from the table with his windy-thing, and Feferi watches in fascination. In short, no one is particularly interested. Nevertheless, Karkat continues to delegate and lecture, and the table continues to distract itself silently.

You can feel Rose radiating warmth onto your legs. Your stomach rolls tightly, thinking of her splayed out on the table before you, thighs wide... You shake your head slightly to dispel the image. But you cannot help but spread your own legs slightly, bringing Rose’s apart, stacked on top of yours as they are. Rose intakes a breath sharply but quietly, and her shoulders straighten.

You let the minutes slip by uneventfully as Rose once more relaxes against you. You let her think you were just changing posture to be more comfortable. Yes. Exactly.

You feel diabolical. The hand you have curled possessively over Rose's (which is in turn clutching her mug of coffee) you move to brush a stray hair out of your face. Which you shook into your face a second ago. But now your hand is free and you lay it on one of your Rose's thighs, which has her tensing again. You make nothing of it, pretending to listen intently to Karkat chewing out Dave for screwing around at A Vital Meeting. This time it takes longer, nearly five minutes (you have definitely got this Earth-time thing down) for her to slip back into naïve comfort. And then the game really begins.

Your fingers trail ethereally along her thigh, and Rose has gone stock-still. Languidly, you tease higher, and the closer you get to the hem of her skirt the warmer her skin grows. From your place behind her you can just see the edge of her right cheekbone growing cherry-blossom pink and the physical sight of her concentrated blood has yours heating. Gently, you slip your hand beneath her skirt and with the same motion place your other elbow on the edge of the table, leaning forward to cup your jaw in your hand leisurely.

Rose, who has by this point grown rather flustered, takes a steadying draught of her coffee. But Earth-bean-juice cannot help her now. Not when your fingertip finds it, that tiny bundle of nerves that has her thighs trembling, her shoulder blades pressing into you as she desperately looks for an outlet to the energy practically leaping from her skin. Your movements still imperceptible from above the table, you press your finger in tight circles, the muscles in Rose's legs tightening over and over.

"Rose!" It is as if someone called your own name. Both of your heads snap up to Karkat, who is glaring at your prey from the other end of the table. Despite the shock, your finger continues its sadistic movement. Let him think it is he who has this delicacy pinned.

"Do you have any idea whose socks were in the east corridor?!"

"No." You wonder if anyone else thinks she sounds faintly like she's drowning. Apparently not, because Karkat's gaze leaves her as he continues his interrogation with Nep. He reminds you an awful lot of that historical figure you read about in one of Rose's many hoarded textbooks... ah yes McCarthy. That's it. You could have sworn the description in the book was actually one of your crabby leader.

Rose is close, you can tell by the way she has stilled, her every tendon wound tight. Suddenly, you stop, your hand falling limply between her legs. You can tell she has to fight not to call out, to let her head fall on to the table and beg for you to let her come. You know that is exactly how it would play out, were you alone. Instead she merely flounders for her near-empty mug, downing the rest of its contents.

The meeting drags on and its monotony helps Rose calm down. As soon as she has returned to mostly-normal you start up your ministrations once more, her wetness soaking you. It takes only a few moments to return her to fever pitch. She teeters again on the precipice and again you stop her from falling, every cell of her calling out to you.

It continues on like this for another two topics, first the debate over the proposed mural in the north common room and then the lecture about keeping one's doors locked at night. By the time Karkat has threatened to dress up like a clown and go around testing doors himself in the middle of the night, Rose is all but rocking back and forth in agony.

Quickly, you slip two fingers into her.

"Come for me sweetheart," you breath into her ear.

Instantly, she is spilling out onto your hand as she feigns another draft from her empty coffee cup. You can see her mouth open in ecstasy behind its rim, her eyes closed and head thrown back. You are positive you have never seen anyone fake drinking so intoxicatingly.

As she comes down from her high, you cup your hand over her protectively, your palm assaulted with heat. When she has recovered completely, you move your hand to her opposite hip, holding her to you.

Karkat brings the meeting to a close.

 

Back in your room, Rose closes the door and whirls to face you.

"I will have my revenge my darling. And do be assured. It will be served ice cold." You watch appreciatively as the corner of her black lips curl into your favorite smirk.

Thinking that perhaps your indulgent novels have perhaps taken a bit more of a hold on you than you had previously supposed, you stride to her and dip her into a kiss, her weight supported in your arms. When you break the struggle of your lips against hers you let your eyes drift open to take in her glowing face, the hunger flashing in her eyes. You lick your lips as your eyes stray to the pulse at the base of her throat.

"I anticipate it highly."

 

You don't make it to the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> That awkward moment when you write a half a story and then finish it later, only to find you've written it in two persons... Points to anyone who can figure out where the halves meet!


End file.
